The Twelve Days of Christmas
by Shyaway
Summary: Twelve festive piratey drabbles inspired by the carol. [Note: not a songfic.] Happy New Year!
1. Partridge in a Pear Tree

Twelve drabbles inspired by the carol, many festive, most fluffy. Happy Christmas! 

Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean and its characters are owned by Disney. I use them without permission, but with much love and respect.

In light of the announcement of the new policy concerning songfics, I wish to add a second disclaimer: this is not a songfic. I use brief quotations from a carol that is in the public domain as chapter titles. This is in accordance with this site's rules.

With that over, on with the drabbles.

* * *

"Remember how cold it was in England at Christmas-time?" 

"Bitter cold," Will said from his perch on the stool, where he was affixing decorations to the walls.

Handing a palm branch up to him, Elizabeth mused, "Although it would be nice to have evergreens to put up at this time of year ..."

Their six-year-old son hared into the parlour. "Mamma, Papa, there's a strange man up the pear tree!"

Will and Elizabeth rushed outside. Sure enough the tree's uppermost branches were shaking as someone climbed up towards the roof of the house. Catching sight of the spectators, the climber fumbled and fell.

A battered leather hat landed a few feet away from him. Its owner sat up and prodded at his limbs. "Ow."

"Jack," Will said. "What were you _doing_?"

"I was going to come down the chimney."


	2. Turtle Doves

Thanks for the reviews, OpraNoodlemantra and L Moonshade. Here's a Boxing Day/December 26th present for you … gift-wrapped Will. :-)

Warning: saccharine!

* * *

"And these globes are for Father. I think they're really rather fine, don't you?" Elizabeth indicated the globes detailing the earth and the heavens to Will as if she were offering them for sale.

"Yes, very fine. Are you taking them to him when we go there for dinner tomorrow?"

Elizabeth nodded. "You'll help me carrying them, won't you?"

"My love, there is nothing I would rather do than fetch and carry for you," Will said with just a trace of sarcasm.

"Well, help me put them back in the box and I'll put a ribbon on it." She picked up the roll of sage green ribbon to measure out a length of it.

Will took it from her hand and held it against her hair, cupping her face. "It suits you better than the box," he said.

She took it back and deftly tied it in a bow around his neck. "It suits you, too," she said, giggling, and drew him down for a kiss.


	3. French Hens

It was difficult to decide who or what to write for this one. I went with Anamaria because she is often supposed to be French Creole. Think of 'hen' as in 'hen night', not 'chicken' or anything of that sort. :-P Thanks for the reviews, as always!

* * *

Freedom. Anamaria could ask for no better Christmas present than that. Having freedom, all else would follow. 

For her freedom she had her mother to thank. Christophine had risked – everything – in escaping that Martinique hellhole they called a sugar plantation, and it had been made infinitely more dangerous by the presence of the infant Anamaria. But with the same tenacity of spirit that she had passed on to her daughter, she achieved their destination. Tortuga.

There she set up as a wise-woman, using skills and knowledge passed down through her family to make her deservedly famous in Tortuga, and trusted too, as far as anybody was in that town; although those who sang her praises were not to know that sometimes when her expertise failed she would get by with obscure caveats and a confident smile, because – as she told her daughter – if you don't look after yourself in this wide world, no one else will. Growing up in the midst of pirates and prostitutes, Anamaria agreed whole-heartedly.

"Take what you can; give nothing back." She took the pirates' creed for her own long before she turned pirate herself. That path had led her here, to this ship and captain who were synonymous with freedom. And in the captain she had found – not someone to be relied on, Anamaria would depend on no one – but there was no one she would rather be independent with than Jack Sparrow.


	4. Calling Birds

Thanks for the feedback, as always!

* * *

Gibbs had been most pleased to spend Christmas leave in Bristol. He'd known the port as a boy, and he'd had a grand time meeting up with his old mates and testing the taverns. The beer was just as good as he remembered. Aye, they didn't make it like that anywhere else. Maybe he'd just stay in Bristol and drink their fine brew this next year. He'd heard a rumour that his ship the Dauntless was going to be posted to the West Indies, and he wasn't at all sure that he wanted to go. Fever, pirates, hurricanes, cannibals – who knew what might happen to you in the Caribbean? Best not to go. There was a lass living a few miles from Bristol who'd been very pretty twenty years ago; he'd much rather renew his acquaintance with her than go to some nasty heathenish place on the other side of the Atlantic. 'Sides, there was no guarantee they wouldn't miss their way and sail off the edge of the world after all. He'd stay where he was, thanks very much.

He made that decision just before slipping into a drunken stupor in his favourite tavern of the lot. He awoke in the street the next morning to the call of the gulls, that insistent cry that heralded a journey.

Despite his aching head and queasy belly, Gibbs staggered to his feet. The old lady was calling. Wouldn't do to deny the sea.


	5. Gold Rings

This is fun. :-D Thanks for the feedback so far, and please do review if you've just started reading!

* * *

The passengers of the Eleanora had been wearing enough jewellery to satisfy even the magpie crew of the Black Pearl. They'd had brooches, necklaces, hairpins, a rather fine pocket-watch, and rings a-plenty: gold and silver both, with diamonds, emeralds, amethysts, rubies, and sapphires.

Jack selected his favourites and solemnly slotted a gold ring onto each finger of his left hand in turn: thumb, forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, pinky.

"That's for your wedding ring, that is, cap'n, the third finger of your left hand," Gibbs pointed out. "Who are you going to marry?"

Jack pursed his lips, considered, then removed that ring and bound it to the wheel of the Pearl.


	6. Geese a Laying

Thank you as always to the reviewers…

* * *

"It's here, it's here!" squealed the youngest and most excitable of the Turner children, running from the kitchen to the parlour where her mother was reading Le Morte D'Arthur to the other children.

"What's here, Mary?" Elizabeth asked.

Estrella put her head around the door. "Begging your pardon, Mrs Turner, but the butcher just delivered the goose. You did ask me to inform you."

"Oh yes, thank you. I'll join you in the kitchen directly." Elizabeth dropped the book and clapped her hands, looking just like a little girl herself. This, for her, always heralded the beginning of Christmas. "Johnny, run and fetch your papa from the smithy. It's time he stopped working! And Estrella? When you lay the table for dinner tomorrow, set an extra place. I have a feeling a friend of ours might turn up."


	7. Swans a Swimming

Yesterday's was the Ghost of Elizabeth's Christmas Future. Today's is the Ghost of Elizabeth's Christmas Past!

* * *

Elizabeth daintily lifted her skirt a few inches and tested the water with her bare foot. A perfect heat, and clear and blue like the sky. How cold the lake on the estate in England would be on Christmas Day! But the salty waters of the Caribbean were warm and welcoming even in December.

After checking for prying eyes, and finding none, she started to shed her dress. The inhabitants of Port Royal would be dozing after their Christmas lunch, as was her father, who was taking a nap before their party that evening. Therefore he had not seen his sixteen-year-old daughter slip out to this sheltered cove, and the servants would be too busy to notice her absence. There would be no one to spy on the governor's daughter sea-bathing in her petticoat.

The dress dropped down and she left it on the sand by her shoes and stockings. She waded into the sea, feeling her petticoat skirt clinging and wafting around her legs. She ventured a little further and tried a few strokes, but she was not a strong swimmer, having received no proper instruction, and so was content to float. She spread out her arms. Her skirt swirled around her. Elizabeth imagined herself a mermaid, the queen of Atlantis. Removed from the fuss of society life, she was as free as the fish beneath her and the birds above her.

At length, relaxed and renewed, she paddled back to the shore, dried herself – the hot sun would take care of her damp petticoat – and donned her dress again. Her wet hair she covered with a lace cap and a hat.

With a refreshed heart she started back to the mansion, feeling fortified against all the officers and society ladies who would be their guests that evening. There would be few people she really called her friends there. Not the old woman whose son kept the bakery, who always had a sweetmeat and a new tale of the island's ancient past for Elizabeth; and not Will, who would be stuck in the Browns' dreary home on this beautiful day.

Languorously, as if she were still flowing through water, but purposefully, she changed her course. Will should have livelier company than Mr Brown's. There was still time to pay a call that afternoon.


	8. Maids a Milking

Thanks to the reviewers :-). Just to clear up any confusion: there are different versions of the carol, in which the presents are given in varying orders. Naturally I'm going by the version that is familiar to me!

* * *

The first day of 1699 was dawning calm and bright. All was tranquil; the ground, lace-covered with snow, felt staid under Bill's feet after so long at sea. He was chilled to the bone, and worn out – it was a weary seven miles from Dover to the village of his childhood, and the presents he carried for his parents were growing heavier with every step. At least he hadn't much further to go. He was approaching the last house before his family's: that of the Armitages. John Armitage had been a slightly distant figure of Bill's childhood, too old to be a playfellow, too young to be looked up to as an adult.

Someone was emerging from their ramshackle cowshed. As the unfamiliar woman drew nearer, Bill recalled hearing that John had taken a younger wife from another town some distance away. This must be her.

"Good morning," he called out politely.

She came closer and he saw that she had dimples and brown eyes. "Good morning. You're a stranger here, I think."

Bill introduced himself and explained his connection to her neighbours.

"Oh, you're a member of the Turner family. I've only been in the village a few weeks, not long enough to get to know everyone."

"A few weeks? I thought John was married three years ago."

She frowned. "Yes – to my sister. Anne and the boys have been ill with influenza. I'm nursing them." She held up the bucket in her hand. "And milking the cow. That has to be done, rain of shine."

"Then you are – " Bill hesitated, trying to dredge up Anne Armitage's maiden name, "-Miss Cartwright?"

"Yes, I am – "

"Sarah!" a voice called from the house.

"Oh – I must go. But I … I hope you will stay in the village for a while? Long enough to call on us, at least?"

Certainly. If he could, he would stay long enough for a wedding.


	9. Pipers Piping

Thanks for the feedback - here is day nine!

* * *

The Interceptor was on fine, healthy form that morning, her painted hull sparkling clean and smart, her sails vibrant white, her guns safely stowed away ready to be brought briskly to action. Striding up the gangplank, Norrington was proud of the ship and her crew. The latter stood to attention at his approach. He heard the shrill squeal of the pipe announcing his presence.

"Captain on deck!"

Captain. At last that was him. Norrington permitted himself a quiet, private glow of satisfaction. It was an achievement deserving of some pride, after all, to reach this rank at the age of thirty: the fruit of attention paid to honour, duty, and hard work. As a gentleman he would savour it only in the proper way, which was inwardly; but the savour the taste of that fruit, his success, he would.


	10. Drummers Drumming

In the course of his travels Jack had seen the drum employed for many purposes. In Africa its sound was shaped into celebration. The first sailors used it to beat time for their rowers. He'd have to try that when he got the Pearl back. And get her back he would, for all that he was languishing in the British Navy's cell again.

It was just his bad luck to fall into the hands of people who twisted its meaning into death. Listen to them rolling their drumsticks in anticipation of his demise, and all he could do was hold his head up and hope for the best.

But the vultures were disappointed; his end was not to be so untimely, thanks to Bill's lad; and after that, for Jack the sound of the drum always meant friendship.


	11. Ladies Dancing

Thanks for the feedback!

* * *

Gliding was difficult to one more accustomed to striding over the deck of the Dauntless. Norrington had to concentrate deeply; but every time the turn of the dance brought him back to his wife of not two hours and he could touch her hand, his concentration on the dance steps was lost to his wish that the rigmarole of the wedding would be over so that he could be alone with her. For now they were on display, cementing their vows in society after sanctifying them in church.

Further down the line he caught sight of Elizabeth, partnered by her husband; how thankful he was that that didn't hurt any more – and that the happiness he'd thought lost to him had been granted in the new Mrs Norrington.


	12. Lords a Leaping

Last one! Thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed. I hope you enjoy this one...

* * *

"By what name do you present this child?"

Young John Turner watched his mother hold out the new baby, soon to be called William, to the priest. He fidgeted in his seat. Estrella, their housekeeper, frowned at him. He sighed. He didn't want to be sitting on this uncomfortable pew in this draughty church surrounded by all these people: his little sisters, and Estrella, and the nursemaid, and everyone who was anyone in Port Royal, from his father's old master Mr Brown, to Grandfather Swann who was standing godfather. And Uncle Jack was sitting a few rows back, looking very strange dressed like a dandy with his beard shaved off and his hair hidden under a periwig. He had arrived just that morning with a hearty slap on the back for Papa, a bolt of blue satin for Mamma and the girls, and a silver rattle for the baby. For John he had brought a mouse, which had been handed over with a wink and was now secreted, squirming, in John's pocket. He longed to drop it down his sister Eleanor's neck, but Estrella was glaring at him again, and it seemed that the service was over anyway.

The congregation repaired to the governor's mansion for the reception. While the grown-ups drank sherry, John looked at the suit of armour in the hall and wondered if it had ever belonged to a real knight.

"Dull as sailing over a puddle, isn't it?"

It took him a moment to recognise Jack in that garb. "Yes, it is," he confided. "They're all cooing over the baby! No one has anything to say to me."

Jack nodded sympathetically. Whatever he might have said next was forestalled by the approach of Grandfather Swann.

"Well, John! How did you enjoy the service?"

"Very much, sir," John mumbled, because it was the right thing to say.

"And you, Mr – er? I don't think I've had the honour …" He broke off, furrowing his brow in puzzlement as he tried to think where he'd seen this man before.

John stared up at them, panic-stricken. Mamma and Papa were always impressing on him the importance of not telling anyone when Uncle Jack was visiting, and now here was Grandfather about to recognise him! Quickly he pulled out the mouse and released it. It scurried across the floor, causing several ladies to squeal most satisfyingly; but that was nothing compared to the delightful way in which Grandfather Swann shrieked and leaped a foot in the air.

By the time the commotion died down and it was ascertained that his lordship was all right, Jack had been whisked away by the Turners, and both he and John were being admonished.

"Whatever possessed you to bring him _that_?"

Jack shrugged. "It's something I would have wanted at his age – a way to make girls squeal, before he discovers the other way," he said, and deftly avoided Elizabeth's slap.


End file.
